Make It Up!

610. Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

It is election night and the wind is roaring off the Sound. We are saving daylight now so the sun sets early. It was only this weekend that we turned back the clocks so I am disoriented each evening; “What time is it!” I exclaim looking at the clock, realizing that although it feels like midnight it is actually only 7:00. When I was a kid I’d ride the merry-go-round, spinning and spinning until my inner compass was so bamboozled that I walked like a drunken sailor. Daylight saving time is like a merry-go-round.

Although at this fine age I have no intention of spinning myself into perplexity, I’ve once again decided that being disoriented is not so bad (when I am deep in thought I am perfectly capable of walking into poles or going in the opposite direction of my intention). In fact, so fond am I of being disoriented that I’m considering spinning disorientation into a philosophy so future generations might reasonably aim at utter confusion.

This is the proof for my new philosophy: we spend so much time trying to be found, how could we be anything but lost. A variation on the theme: we spend so much time trying to be right, that we must certainly be continually proving that we are wrong. Another variation: we put so much energy justifying our position that we must be secretly convinced that we have no position. So rather than whip up the illusion of knowing, wouldn’t it make more sense to fully embrace not-knowing? Good heavens, I’m on the verge of writing a syllogism! My inner philosopher is tugging at his beard with cigar stained fingers, muttering, “hmmmmmm. A book, perhaps?” Ominous deep staring eyes will dominate the book jacket design, the teaser will read: there is no map for your soul! The first chapter will be a single sentence: It is all made up.

When puffer-academics ask me for proof of disorientation I will point to American election cycles. So inundated are we with months of campaign advertising, pundits tugging on our perceptual rope, “facts” spun into tasty delirium cotton candy, “truth” slandered and slander twisted into licorice tasting “truth;” we must certainly be on the merry-go-round all of the time. Chapter one: it is all made up. Chapter two: in order to be oriented you have to have something solid to orient to. Chapter three: If it is all made up, then nothing is solid. If nothing is solid, then orientation is impossible. If orientation is impossible, then you better make something up. A near syllogism! My inner philosopher hoots with satisfaction!

No wonder I’m dizzy.

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